The Right Place at the Wrong Time
by tamarahermione
Summary: Hermione comes across a familiar object which leads her to the right place, but in a completely different time period.


**The Right Place at the Wrong Time**

**Hi guys! Sorry this took so long - this is my first fanfiction and I'm really excited! **

**Okay, I cannot thank my friend and beta Ashni (Shniosaurus) enough for helping me with this - you've been amazing and without you this would be a bunch of random words stringed together that make no sense. For this reason, I'm also dedicating this fic to you, Ashni. Thank you so much :D**

**I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter, although trust me, I wish I did.  
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**And... on with the story!**

**Chapter 1**

"Hermione...? Hermione? Hermione!"

"Huh? Wha...?" Hermione's eyes flickered as she tried to remember where she was.

"HERMIONE!"

The shout caused Hermione to bolt upright, startled; her sudden movement resulting in pieces of parchment flying everywhere. In a desperate attempt to grab at the various fragments of her potions essay, which were now flying in all directions, she tripped over a chair leg and toppled ungracefully onto the floor in a heap.

Managing to scramble up and compose herself, she recognised the all-too-familiar red-haired, freckled-faced boy standing in front of her, hand covering his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter.

"It's not funny, Ron." Hermione mumbled.

Suppressing his giggles, Ron replied,

"That was absolutely hilarious, and there's no denying it. But that's beside the point. Hermione, this is getting ridiculous - you haven't had a proper night's sleep in four days! You've just been sitting here in the common room, finishing off your essays until the early hours of the morning, and then falling asleep on a chair with bloody books for pillows! It's just not healthy!"

"Oh, shut up. You're giving me a headache", snapped Hermione as she bent over to pick up a piece of parchment. "Just leave me alone, Ron."

"I was only trying to help", Ron sighed. "Look, I think you should atleast go and speak to Professor McGonagall. All this work is just too much for you to handle. Maybe she can talk some sense into you." With that, Ron muttered something about "I'll see you at breakfast", turned and walked out, leaving Hermione standing alone in the middle of the common room with the remnants of her potions essay still scattered around her.

As she headed towards the stairs, Hermione considered what Ron had just said. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right - it was only the second week of term and she was already drowning in work. It had been four days now since she had actually slept in her own bed, for _Merlin's sake_.

As she walked straight through her dormitory and into the bathroom, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. _Merlin's pants_, she looked like a raccoon! The dark circles under her eyes would put a panda to shame, and her hair was practically defying gravity. She let out a groan and tried to make herself look half-decent, attacking the bird's nest on her head with a brush, and quickly changing into a clean set of robes. Once (almost) satisfied with her appearance (there wasn't anything she could do about her eyes), she headed down to the Great Hall, only to arrive just as the plates were being cleared. She sighed. Today was just _not _her day.

Realising that she probably didn't even have enough energy to stay awake in a lesson, let alone _learn _anything, Hermione decided that it was best to go and find Professor McGonagall. She made her way through the various corridors (bumping into a surprising amount of people _and _walls along the way), until she reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower. Quickening her pace as she hurried up the stairs, Hermione was nearly tripping over her own feet as she arrived at McGonagall's office. She knocked three times on the familiar stone door.

There was no answer. Maybe McGonagall hadn't heard her? Hermione knocked louder this time, causing the door to swing open, revealing a vast, empty room.

Strange. An unlocked office and nobody inside?

Hermione shrugged. "She probably just left the office unlocked by accident when she went down to breakfast", she thought. "I suppose there's no harm in waiting for a couple of minutes."

Hermione peered into the room, fiddling with her hair impatiently. McGonagall's office was bright and open; round in shape with uneven stone walls and dark wooden floorboards and a single arched window, draped in golden and red curtains, overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Spaced intermittently along the walls were bookcases, crammed full of books on every magical topic Hermione could imagine. There were also tables between the bookcases, on which were different magical items, varying from a large hourglass with strange blue-coloured sand, to ornate clocks that had several strangely shaped hands, to strange instruments with twirling knobs and swinging pendulums that Hermione couldn't identify for the life of her. There were portraits too, some of which she recognised; a portrait of Albus Dumbledore hung near the window, currently snoozing in his chair, and one by the door of Godric Gryffindor, leaning on his sword and gazing proudly around the room. Last, and certainly not least, was Professor McGonagall's desk, a mahogany piece that stood in the centre of the room, cluttered with quills, inkpots and dozens of rolls of parchment. Hermione yawned and rubbed her eyes tiredly, when she noticed something odd glinting on McGonagall's desk. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to ascertain what the strange item was, then widened in surprise as she recognised it.

But...hadn't that been destroyed?

Glancing around to make sure McGonagall was nowhere in sight, Hermione tiptoed to the desk to take a closer look.

She picked up the object to examine it. The gold-trimmed hourglass was still attached to its chain, although it had rusted significantly since she had last used it. The words engraved on the metal rings around the hourglass were barely visible anymore; Hermione had to squint to make them out: "_I mark the hours every one, nor have I yet outrun the sun. My use and value unto you, are gauged by what you have to do._"

Suddenly, clutching her old Timeturner in her hand, an idea struck her...


End file.
